Half his luck

I’m sure women with naturally big breasts are fine with those if they’re in proportion but why would the average woman – and Posh seems to think that’s a 16 in this country – want to go through this rubbish? To achieve … what?

Women have always been less than honest with the world about themselves – concealing this, enhancing that, presenting only this – it goes with the territory but implants are ugly. The very things meant to pad out, to produce that perfect shape produce an artificiality instead.

WN2 of mine was forever telling me how good her breasts still were and I was forever agreeing and taking that as an invitation to emulate the baby [top right], just to confirm it, you know. Truth was – they’d been much gnawed by babies and big babies and were showing signs of wear and tear.

So what? Didn’t make her any less ravishing, as my behaviour tended to confirm.

Moving on to eyesight, there’s a passage in one of my books and every word of this dialogue was actually spoken in our flat:

She’d been to the doctor that day and she needed spectacles. She’d always needed them but now she really needed them, a prospect to shrink from with dread, it seemed. Useless to speak of cosmetically enhancing contact lenses, of how the most beautiful women on the planet wore glasses, useless to assure her that men adored women with glasses because it actually softened their features.

‘I don’t want to be soft, I want to be perfect.’

He gazed at her. ‘Why do you think softness can’t be perfect? I mean, what would you say a man wants from a woman – softness or hardness?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘You know that newsreader from Channel 1, the one with the Angelina Jolie jaw, the dark hair pulled back severely and tied up in a bun behind – do you think she’s beautiful?’

‘She’s very elegant.’

‘I don’t think she’s beautiful at all. She never smiles, she looks at you as if she’s going to execute you and what’s she trying to prove anyway? I mean, who advises her to do that?’

She shrugged. ‘So what do you call beautiful?’

‘You and every part of you that you don’t like. You want to be tall and gangly, you think your breasts are too small and that you’re not as classically beautiful as the models in Vogue. I think you’re better than them, you’re certainly far better than the ones in Elle and what’s more – you’re real. With you, it’s the harmony of the whole package, that’s the key that drives a man crazy, that and your curves, your ultra-femininity. I could go on forever.’

‘Don’t let me stop you.’

I vigorously underscore every word of that. [By the way, for the boys, it’s Nathalie Kelly]

My height is my height, my tadger is what it is, my face shape is what it is. While I can do things to make it halfway presentable and present myself reasonably cleanly, I am, in the end, what I am. That’s what I would hope a woman would also be – confident in the Her that is, that exists before any of the body mutilation.

Just sayin’ like. The beauty is in her nature, through her features and deportment, through her voice and her words.

Post navigation

2 comments for “More on tits?”

Hmmmmm – there must be something in the air. I have a post drafted to publish tomorrow, part of which relates to the boobish area, or as a fashion guru on US TV likes to call ’em “the girls”. Mine’s a different slant same bit of anatomy.

I have to agree that doing the best with what a gal has beats being cut and stuffed with silicone. Anyway, I’ve always thought that nipples peeping through are a much sexier thing than big knockers.

“More than a handful’s a waste” – I heard that a few times in days gone by. 😉